


Digital Get Down

by Cinderella1181, Losille



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Curvy OFC, Dragon Con, F/M, Nerdiness, World of Warcraft - Freeform, plus size OFC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:28:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25229092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinderella1181/pseuds/Cinderella1181, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Losille/pseuds/Losille
Summary: When SuperHank met OrcPrincessPeach on the World of Warcraft message boards, it was love at first raid. Now, almost a year later, they’re ready to take the next step and meet in person. Half a world away from each other, both decide to meet in Atlanta for DragonCon, since she was already going to be there for her work as a game designer at Blizzard... never mind that she is a devout nerd. They both have to face the fact that reality is very different from a digital world.
Relationships: Henry Cavill & Original Female Character(s), Henry Cavill/Original Character(s), Henry Cavill/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 54
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This idea happened while we were floating around our pool a few days ago. We don’t foresee this being very long, but as always, if you want more, we will write more.

**Chapter 1**

_**SuperHank:** _ _Hey girlie girl, I did it! I got the pass for DragonCon. After almost 10 months, 3 weeks, and 2 days, I’m officially coming to meet you!_

**_OrcPrincessPeach:_ ** _Yay! Are you sure you can afford it... and the airfare?_

_**SuperHank:** _ _Dollface, for you, I would move the oceans and walk to you. I can’t wait. August seems so far away._

_**OrcPrincessPeach:** _ _Be still my beating heart, you sappy romantic. I can’t wait to see you._

_**SuperHank:** _ _Same here. I gotta go raid. I will talk to you later. I’ll text you before I go to sleep. Have a good day at work._

_**OrcPrincessPeach:** _ _I will see you later tonight!_

Opal closed the laptop and smiled to herself, trying desperately to keep a squeal of delight from escaping her lips. Nothing ever made her feel as amazing as talking to Hank did, even when it meant little sleep and getting up well before the sun to do it. But Amber, her roommate, would be the first person to yell at her for making too much noise in the morning… especially since it involved Hank, whom Amber did not particularly like for some reason.

Nevermind that he and Amber had never actually talked to each other. And, in fact, Opal had only ever talked to the man herself, too. Well, “talking,” in so much that they called each other, texted each other, and chatted on the World of Warcraft message boards about everything and nothing at all. There was the one time, though, when she had been “talking” with Hank, that she may have gotten too loud during a little early morning (for her, anyway) phone sex.

So maybe Amber _did_ have a point.

Opal’s cheeks heated at the thought, replaying the memory in her head as she pulled on her most adorable red peep-toe pumps. All the boys in her programming pod at Blizzard loved it when she wore them; they always made her feel like she could take on the world. Because, seriously, who was going to mess with a woman wearing sky-high red heels during the day? It was amazing what she could convince her fellow game designer nerds to do when she wore these heels with this outfit.

She smoothed her otherwise fairly normal navy blue sheath dress over her slightly rounded belly and wide hips. These clothes were her armor against the world, much like how her orc character dressed in the game. Opal and her orc both needed the image that they could take on the male-dominated World of game design, when in reality, she could very much be a shrinking violet. Especially when it came to her body.

Hence why she had only shared very, erm, specific photos of her body with Hank, and him with her… in the best light, angle and pose. He had an amazing body, and she, well, she didn’t have an amazing body. It wasn’t terrible, per se. It did the things she needed it to do, but she certainly could have spent more time at the office standing desks or in the employee gym. But her red pumps wouldn’t allow her to do either.

So she just had to hope--and pray--that when he saw her in the harsh light of day that he didn’t run away screaming. Because there certainly had been a few online boyfriends before this who had done just that.

Opal left her room and carefully made her way downstairs to get her bag together for work. Tycho, her rather large ragdoll cat, was laying on the back of the couch, half on the black bag and rubbing his chin on the rigid canvas handle. Clearly, the bag was his now, just like everything else in the house.

“Hey, you better move it, buddy. I gotta get to work so you get _good_ gushy food.” She pointed at him. “Be gone when I get back in here.”

Tycho rumbled a low meow in response and didn’t move.

“Freeloader,” she mused.

She headed into the kitchen with a huge smile returning to her face and butterflies making her slightly queasy. After almost a year, she was finally… _finally_ … going to meet the boy she’d been dating online. Most people would take that as a sign that this was all it would ever be--online and still fairly impersonal. To be fair, though, Hank _had_ planned to come and see her once before, but work had not let him. And it wasn’t like they were on the same continent, normally. They were halfway around the world from each other. But this time, he swore up and down that this was going to be it. They were going to cohabitate in the same hotel suite for a long weekend, and make good on all the very dirty promises they had made each other in the ten months they’d been “together.” Of course, she was well aware that he still may cancel, but for now, she was going to live in her dreamworld.

Amber was already in the kitchen as Opal made it into the room. Her roommate sat bleary-eyed at the kitchen table and stared at her cell phone screen.

“You already made coffee?” Opal asked.

The brunette nodded and motioned her head towards the almost full pot. “Yeah, cause I didn’t have to get up at a stupid time in the morning to talk to my internet boyfriend.”

Opal rolled her eyes. “Amber, it’s not that bad.”

“Really, Opie? What time did you get out of bed this morning?” she asked, her eyebrow peaked.

Opal sighed. “Six.” Amber shook her head. “It’s not normal. How long have you been ‘dating’ this dude?” she asked, emphasizing her point with air quotes and all.

“Almost a year, but he and I are finally meeting. We’re going to meet in Atlanta for DragonCon. It’s a halfway point between us, we figured it would be neutral territory,” Opal explained.

“Is Con really ‘neutral’? You’d live at a con if you could.”

Opal ignored her comment. As far as she was concerned, it _was_ neutral… and certainly big enough to get lost in the crowd if things didn’t go well. She certainly didn’t want to bring him around her house if Amber planned to be there to scare him away.

Opal continued with a light, dreamy sigh. “It’s going to be super exciting. I’m ready to meet Hank. He is a fantastic guy; he is kind, funny, loves his family.”

“Sounds like you’re describing a labrador. Next thing, you’re going to tell me he is loyal and in love with you,” Amber replied, shaking her head. “You can’t be in love with someone you have never met in person.”

Maybe Amber was right, after all. How much could someone truly _know_ a person from what they say alone? It’s merely a facet of who they are. Actions were also huge, and he had not yet proven anything to Opal in that category.

But still, Opal was sure Hank was different. She’d had a lot of online boyfriends throughout her life--her life revolved around the computer, so it was only natural. And comparing all the other examples with her current love interest, this just felt different. Like… it might actually be real.

“You can love their heart, and I adore him. He is pretty great. I’m just hoping he’s the one.” Opal grinned. “We would have an amazing story to tell our kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids.”

Amber pressed her lips together into a terse line and returned to whatever was on her phone. “Well, when this all bursts in your face, Opie, you just come home to me and remember that I love you no matter what.”

Opal smiled. “I know, Amber. You’ll pick up all the pieces. But I don’t think that’s going to happen with him. I don’t know. He’s different.”

“Does he know?” Amber asked, the cup of coffee close to her mouth.

“Um... know what?” Opal asked.

“That you’re not some skinny bimbo?” Amber asked, motioning in her direction. Amber’s eyes scanned her body slowly, critically. “All the people on the internet have this idealized image in their head that the person they’re talking to is Giselle Bundchen, not Ashely Graham or Tess Holliday.”

“They are both gorgeous and many men are in love with them,” Opal defended. “And they’re both married.”

Amber shrugged. “I’m just preparing you for it, if it happens. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

This conversation, though, _was_ hurting her. Hank wasn’t the direct cause of it, just a reason for Amber to start this. She knew Amber had her best interests at heart--no friend wants their friend to get hurt--but the way she achieved her goals, and the words she used, were not nice.

Opal sighed. “Look, he knows I’m fat. He knows I have curves and I’m not a size two. He and I have had several conversations about the fact I’m not some little skinny thing. He said he adores my heart, and he doesn’t care what kind of body it comes in.”

He also said he preferred thick women because he didn’t feel like he was going to break them when things got… athletic. But Amber didn’t need to hear that, either.

“My god, if that isn’t a line,” Amber scoffed.

Opal shrugged. “Amber, stop! Your thinly veiled attempt to fat shame me isn’t going to work. I’m going to go to Atlanta, I’m going to meet him, and I may even sleep with him.”

Amber rolled her eyes. “You won’t have sex with him. You’re a 32-year-old virgin.”

Opal shrugged. “You know, stranger things have happened.” She twisted the top on her thermos. “I’m going to be late for work, I’ll see you later.”

She walked back into the living room, removed the cat from his perch, picked up her bag and headed out the door to work. As she walked the block to the bus stop, she pulled her phone out and put on the playlist Hank had built her. She smiled as the songs began to play, each one having a special meaning to both of them. He was always adding new songs with little notes about why he added them.

These little love notes never failed to make her happy again. She couldn’t imagine what would happen if they ever stopped.

She knew what Amber said shouldn’t bother her as much as it did, but she was self-conscious. Her body had always been something that set her apart and had made her shy when it came to men. Of all the potential dates she’d had with online boyfriends, she had only been on three real dates in her adult life. All of them turned tail and ran once she said she was a virgin. So for those very few that were able to get past the body issue, those three considered her lack of experience to be insurmountable.

Hank didn’t make her feel like that. He didn’t seem to care, or if he did, it wasn’t a deal-breaker. If her lack of experience didn’t do it, there was a very real possibility that her other image issues would be the end of it.

When she arrived at the bus stop and sat down, Opal made the decision to push Amber’s nagging voice out of her head. She wasn’t going to let Amber break her confidence. Hank adored her, for who she was, and that was all that mattered.

She turned her music all the way up to block out the self-doubt and scrolled through her playlist, looking for her favorites. At the bottom of the list, added only a few minutes before, was a new song. Opal giggled and clicked on the song, closing her eyes to listen to the electronic 80s synth and Richard Marx croon, [“Right Here Waiting.”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_E2EHVxNAE)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! We appreciate it!

**Chapter 2**

Henry looked at his watch for the hundredth time since sitting down to tie his trainers. Opal’s plane should have landed at least an hour ago, but she hadn’t shown yet, and he was just a little bit antsy. Okay, maybe _a lot_ antsy. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, a combination of his early morning workout and the manic energy of someone preparing to step off into the unknown. His fingers shook as they looped the laces around and pulled the knots tight on his shoes. Not violently, but enough to be a hassle. Enough to make him clench his hands into tight fists as he stood.

The nagging thoughts spiraling through his head refused to let up. What if she didn’t come? What if the last year had been for nothing? Why was he so nervous?

He was supposed to be the confident one, the self-possessed gentleman. Their entire relationship had been like this online; he led, she followed. Well, followed in some areas. In the areas that mattered, that he liked. In others, she was his complete equal, geek to his geek. They shared similar backgrounds. She made him laugh. She made him cry. Some days they spent hours talking about philosophy, and others they trash talked each other about their favorite sports teams, though he would never understand how she could support New Zealand rugby over England.

A travesty, that. 

He was willing to look past that inconsequential flaw because they wanted the same things: to live a peaceful life with a big family. They both wanted the safety of knowing there would be someone there at the end of the day to stand beside, to cuddle with, to make love to, to fight with, while not having to worry that the other would be gone the next day. While he knew permanency in any relationship was difficult—even in that of his long-married parents—he craved the same kind of constancy the rest of the couples in his family enjoyed. He craved the peace and protection that came with having someone to call his own.

Of all the relationships he’d had, this one—his only one conducted entirely online—was the first that let him hope all his dreams could come true.

Unfortunately, he’d already messed up.

Probably beyond repair.

He lied to Opal.

Repeatedly.

Okay, maybe not _lied_ , but he hadn’t been honest, either. He omitted the fact that he was an actor, that his real name was Henry Cavill, and that she had likely seen him as Superman, even though she really didn’t like Zack Snyder movies. This was, perhaps, the main source of his anxiety.

He told her he worked in comic book art; she extrapolated from that information that he was an animator, especially because he could hold a conversation with her about the games she programmed at Blizzard that involved similar competencies. In reality, the sum of his knowledge came from reading about other comic book artists… and reading comics himself.

She also hadn’t recognized Kal the many times he’d sent photos of his pooch over text, so she wasn’t a fan. Nor had she recognized other parts of his body. Somehow, they’d gone a year without pictures of their faces, something Opal had requested simply because she didn’t want him to find her on social media if he turned out to be a creep.

God, he hoped he wasn’t a creep. He was starting to feel like it now, considering what he hadn’t told her. It wasn’t like he was a criminal or a murderer or anything, but he wasn’t ignorant to the fact that being his girlfriend was a full-time job. Not only due to the relationship work, necessarily. The work he worried about dealt with surviving the onslaught of publicity interest. His personal life probably wasn’t as big tabloid fodder as some other actors’, but if _Witcher_ took off like he hoped, it might change.

Other girlfriends had left him before for less attention.

To be fair, there was no way of knowing when it all began that it would lead them here, to this hotel room. When it started in that World of Warcraft chat, he thought it would be like all other online hookups. Witty banter followed by the sharing of a few quick pics of select anatomy—her breasts were amazing—then they'd learn a few things about each other, talk dirty to each other, proclaim they’d like to know more...

But then he or she would get busy or real life would happen and then one of them would ghost the other, or unsatisfied from talking to a computer screen, both would seek physical connection elsewhere and online love would be quickly forgotten.

That hadn’t happened at all.

The only time in the past year they _hadn’t_ talked, if even to say hello and catch up on the day’s activities, was the week he spent in a remote forest filming. Spotty cell phone coverage and no internet prevented their correspondence. It picked right back up after, but he had to lie about that, too, by saying he hadn’t been feeling well, thus not feeling up to talking.

She regarded the excuse with some reserve, but they eventually moved past it and onto better things. Still, though... what if she knew, deep down, about all of this? What if her intuition—he would never fault a woman’s intuition—got the better of her this time? Or worse yet... what if her viper of a roommate convinced her this wasn’t a good idea, after all?

He wasn’t sure he would be able to get over losing his opportunity with her.

The biting sting in his palms brought him out of his head, finally. He unfurled his fingers to see the tiny lines his nails had created as he clenched his fists together. He hadn’t realized, until this moment, that he was so worried about this... about being _himself_.

Being himself often caused problems; he suffered this affliction from the time he was a weird, nerdy child in school all the way to adulthood trying to deal with social anxiety in a very social career.

What if Opal didn’t like _him_?

He couldn’t bear to think about it any longer. Going further down that path spelled disaster, and he had one more thing to do before she arrived. _If_ she arrived.

“Stop it, Hank,” he murmured to the silent room and the breakfast foods quickly cooling in their cloches. His stomach growled, reminding him that he, too, was starving. He would wait, though, and run down to the Starbucks in the lobby while he did. Room service had forgotten the juice he had specifically asked them to bring.

Other than that, he just had to hope that she showed up. Everything else was in order. Room service set an elegant table in the dining area of the suite. Fresh peonies in a bouquet, her favorite, sat in the center. He’d ordered every food imaginable, because he wanted to make sure she had enough fuel. He knew she’d be running on fumes after working the day before followed by a red eye into Atlanta. He wanted nothing more than to feed her breakfast, then lay in bed and hold her for the first time. After that, he had a full day planned at the spa and a fancy dinner at Sun Dial, the revolving restaurant upstairs.

Spoiling her into oblivion had to win him some points after he pulled the rug out from under her, right?

He headed out the door and down to the elevator bay. His phone dinged in his jeans pocket; the sound jolted his heart like a defibrillator. The notification from the streaming service they used to share each other's playlists back and forth had a new entry.

While he waited for the elevator to arrive, he clicked the notification and read her description. “ ‘ _Baby Got Back’ by Sir Mix-a-lot: Because the girl at the front desk looked me up and down and was like, ‘Your_ boyfriend _is... in that room…’ Yes, heifer. Damn, she’s making it out like your Chris Evans or something.”_

Henry chuckled to himself. Evans, he most certainly was not. But... he breathed a sigh of relief. Opal had arrived. She was in the same building. In a few minutes, they would be in the same place together—not halfway across the world from each other.

He opened WhatsApp and sent a text to her.

A pang of anxiety clenched his heart. What was he supposed to say to that? What if he were just some Regular Joe? Was he _not_ her dream guy? Why were they doing this, then, if her feelings for him weren’t like his for her?

“She’s just teasing,” he muttered again and typed out a response as the elevator opened onto his floor. It was empty, so she must have been downstairs or in another elevator.

By the end of their conversation, he arrived on the lower level. The Starbucks was surprisingly dead for the morning, but he was grateful to get in and get out quickly with her favorite orange pineapple juice. As he was leaving, a kind fan stopped him and asked for a selfie, which he obliged with a big, toothy grin.

Everything would be fine. He felt great as he boarded an elevator again. As each floor flew by, his excitement increased. The reality of the situation hit home, and the high of finally seeing the girl that had so completely captured his heart and mind took over. If you had told him almost a year ago that he would meet the girl of his dreams on the internet, he would have thought you were crazy. But this girl, his Opal, his precious jewel, was all he needed.

They could work through the issues. What they had built in the last year was something special. He had to keep the faith it had been enough.

When he finally made it back to the hotel suite door, he stopped and drew in a long, cleansing breath. This was it, for good or ill. He took another deep breath and slid the keycard through the lock, opening the door.

He stepped inside the entryway, and immediately froze. She was a bloody goddess in human form, and in the split second he had to look her over before she realized she wasn’t alone, he knew with some deep, primordial certainty that this was right. All his previous misgivings fled from his mind.

“Who the hell are you?” she exclaimed, standing up so suddenly from her seat that it nearly toppled over. When it dawned on her who he was, she took a step back. “You are very clearly in the wrong room!”

He smiled softly. “No, this is _my_ room.” He held up the keycard that let him in and watched her squint at his hand. It was his opportunity to take a lengthy perusal of her physical form, in all her splendor. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel an immediate need to touch her many glorious curves, but it was her bright blue eyes that truly did him in. They were altogether extremely different, but also very much the same, as he pictured when he dreamt about her. He knew they were blue, because she had said so. However, his expectations did not compare to how amazing they were, especially now that they stared right back at him.

Albeit, staring at him critically.

“Oh… _oh_ … then _I’m_ in the wrong room,” she said, breathlessly. Opal turned away from him and reached for her purse hanging from another chair. She straightened up, meeting his eyes briefly before blushing and looking away. Just checking to be sure her eyes hadn’t deceived her, probably. “Fuck, sorry. Now I know why the girl downstairs looked at me like I was crazy. Clearly you wouldn’t be having someone like _me_ show up to your room. I’m _so_ sorry…”

That statement killed him. Why the fuck would she think that? Why would she think she wasn’t worthy of him, when _he_ was not worthy of _her_? He hated that she thought these things about herself.

She pulled out her phone. “I’ll just text my boyfriend and work this out. Give me a sec.”

When she sent her text, she glanced back at him cautiously. His phone chimed in his pocket; Opal visibly startled at the chime. Her plump, pink lips parted slightly as she let out a squeak of disbelief.

He set down the juice bottle and took out his phone. He silently read the words. Cleared his throat. “Yes, I do know that Henry Cavill is staying on this floor. And you _are_ in the right room.”

“Holy fuck.” Opal collapsed back into her seat. She looked like she’d seen a ghost, but eventually a deep red blush surfaced as the silence stretched between them. Finally, she looked at him again and held his gaze. She spoke softly, faintly, “Hank?”

He nodded. “That’s what my family calls me. I am Hank in my brothers' phones. I think I’m just ‘Number 4’ in Mum and Dad’s... but I’m so glad you are here Opal.”

He watched her face change with a whole host of emotions. He wanted to say he could read them, but if he could read a woman’s thoughts, then he wouldn’t be an actor. He’d be selling his secrets to men all over the world for billions of dollars. “But you’re... you’re Superman.”

“Among other things.” He smiled. “I am mostly here because of Geralt.”

“You’re fucking Superman. You… you’re famous,” she stammered. “Oh, fuck. I feel lightheaded.”

Henry closed the distance between them and knelt before her, taking her hands in his. She didn’t jerk away from him or seem to be angry, so he figured that was a point in his favor. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I felt like if I did, it would have ended before it even got started. Who would believe it? I just... damn it, Opal, I love your heart. You are incredible and you make me so happy. And trust me, this is not at all how I expected this to go.”

“But the last time we were going to meet, you cancelled?” She looked at him. “What… why?”

He smiled his little boy sheepish smile. “Reshoots. I really did want to see you then and sweep you off your feet.”

She reached her hand out and slowly touched his face. “You are… you’re really him? That sweet, gentle man from the internet?”

He pressed the palms of her hands to his cheeks. Her long fingers were warm to the touch but lit something else in him, as well. Something primal and insatiable. “I am, in the flesh. I'm really that sappy and romantic in real life. I promise. I am who I say I am, only my career is a little different than I said. The Henry everyone sees is the façade that I put on. You know and see the real me, and that’s because we got to know each other without my image getting between us.”

Her fingers moved slightly, along the ridges of his cheeks, as though the tactile perusal was enough to convince her that this was real. That _he_ was kneeling here in front of her. He turned his head and brushed his lips against her palm.

She shuddered at the contact. “I can’t believe this is real.”

“It is, Opal.”

“But you’re the nerd who builds his own computers and games online for hours,” she said, her voice wobbly with emotion. Her beautiful eyes turned glassy with unshed tears. Her delectable lower lip quivered slightly. “You can’t be... you can’t be... _you_.”

“I assure you, it’s me. And you’re the only girl I have thought about since we met. Everyone else pales in comparison to you," he said, with all the certainty that he felt, deep down. He prayed she would understand.

The tears in her eyes finally spilled out onto her cheeks. “You don’t mean that. I’m not going to be good for you. I’m not your type.”

Henry looked at her. “Are you a human female?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have a heart that I love?”

“Yes?”

“Are you the girl who I have spent the last eleven months, two days, and four hours fretting about? The girl who I want to give the world?”

“I guess?”

“You are.”

She shook her head again. “I just don’t understand... maybe I’m tired.”

He inched closer to her, placing his own hands on her face, using his thumbs to brush away the tear tracks. “Opal, I love you. Every single inch of you. I don’t have a type. I like women. So, you fit the bill. But it’s _you_ that I’m interested—your brain, your heart, your soul. Forget about all that other shit.”

Opal nodded at him. “If you say so.”

“I do,” he whispered. “Forget whatever you think you know about actors. It’s not all true.”

She gave him a watery laugh.

“Let me prove it to you this weekend,” he said. “The world is our oyster. And I intend to spend every minute of it together convincing you of it.”

“Even when I go to the bathroom?”

Henry threw his head back and laughed with her, the tension between them breaking. _This_ was the woman he had fallen in love with, not the wilting flower who didn’t think she belonged with him. “If want me to, I’m up for anything.”

Opal chuckled. “That’s okay... I think _some_ mysteries are good.”

“Just not this one?” he asked, motioning to himself.

“It’s not a mystery now.” She grabbed his hands and squeezed them in reassurance but removed them from her face and physically distanced herself a bit more by sitting back in her seat. “We have a lot to talk about, but I need to eat. My lightheadedness wasn’t all from shock.”

Henry nodded and rolled back onto his feet to stand. He didn’t like this distance one bit, but he figured he needed to give it to her, so she had time to come to terms with this. So he sighed and motioned to the table, “Please, eat.”

Opal sighed heavily, the last of her weighty emotions seemingly releasing from her shoulders. “Only if you join me.”

“As my orc princess commands.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you ALL for reading, sharing, and commenting. We appreciate it! Also... the wait? We apologize. We’re teachers/professors, and 2020 sucks.

**Chapter 3**

Opal still couldn’t make sense of the man sitting in front of her. She’d seen plenty of pretty people in her life, but actually sitting in front of someone this beautiful? Life altering. There was something otherworldly about him. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, and God help her, she wanted to put a finger or two on it; she wanted to run her fingers over the peaks of his lips and outline the hard edge of his jaw. What would the rasp of his stubble feel like against her cheeks, against her palms... the inside of her thighs?

She released a heavy sigh that might have sounded a bit like a moan, but she covered it with a slight cough and adjusted in her seat. Never mind the raging, heated blush on her cheeks. Blinking hard and shaking her head, she glanced quickly at him to see if he had noticed.

His astute blue eyes hadn’t left her since sitting down to breakfast, and unless he was deaf, he certainly heard it. The muscles in his jaw tightened as he pressed his lips into a firm line. It prevented the laugh she saw dancing in the playful crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Henry adjusted his own seat and sat forward, resting his elbows on the table. At this vantage, he was close--almost too close, if she were honest--and it took everything in her power not to back away.

Opal knew she had to be strong to survive this. But even knowing that, it didn’t stop the heat pooling between her legs before traveling outward to the rest of her body. She bent to take a delicate bite of pancake, trying to hide her face with the hair that had escaped from the messy bun on the top of her head.

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” he asked softly, his voice a low purr. The heat in her body burst into flames; she had not realized she could be so turned on by a voice, but she figured if just reading his written responses were enough to do it…

The gentleness of his fingers surprised her as he pushed her loose hair behind an ear to see her clearly. He was so… _big_ … that such gentleness confounded her. A shiver skittered up her spine and tightened her breasts. She already hated wearing bras, and this just made her breasts ache more. But she didn’t think anyone was ready for her to go tearing off her bra at breakfast.

Okay, maybe _she_ wasn’t ready…

She fidgeted in her seat again.

No, nope. Definitely not.

“Hmm?” she hummed, finally turning to look at him. It was both the best and worst decision--the best because she couldn’t believe the expression of complete adoration on his chiseled features, the worst because she realized, in startling clarity, he could end up ruining her.

She was so fucking out of her league, in so many ways, it was ridiculous. How had this Greek god--er, Kryptonian alien?--come down to this planet? Why did he even deign to give her the time of day, much less kneel before her as though she were a beautiful goddess herself, and profess that he had somehow fallen in love with her?

Mere mortals couldn’t handle this, and she was as mortal as they came.

She smiled a little as he doled out a second helping of bacon. He grabbed a piece and sat back as he chewed, waiting for her to speak more than a syllable. “I’m just trying to work out how I never put two and two together. I’m practically kicking myself. I mean, my god, your screen name is SuperHank,” she replied. “I mean, I always thought it was a little weird.”

He furrowed his brow. “Really?”

“I guess, yeah. It didn't have anything to do with your characters. Did you do that so it was like Occam's screen name?” she asked. “Impossible to believe it was really you, so people just ignored it?”

He laughed. “Something like that. I changed it in honor of the role because I got the call from Zack while I was in the middle of a raid with my brothers. I almost missed it. So I was riding high and changed it. Honestly, I was so sure I was going to be flooded by fans, but everyone was like, yeah, that’s too obvious and went on with life. It certainly fooled you.”

“To be fair, I’m a Marvel girl, and I could care less about Superman,” she defended.

“And now?” he chided, inching closer once more. Close enough that she could clearly see the striations of the shades of blue in his irises with the small spot of brown in the left one. The faintest hint of his sandalwood cologne filled her nose and she had the intense urge to crawl into his lap and bury her nose in the crook of his neck to get a better whiff.

_Because that isn’t weird at all._

Still, though… she somehow felt bereft. He’d been so close earlier, when he first showed up in the hotel room, kneeling in front of her. But they hadn’t hugged, they hadn’t kissed. They started breakfast while she reeled with this new reality and he kindly gave her the space she needed. Now, though? Now she needed to feel him. She needed him near. As unsettling as his presence was, she could imagine nothing better than feeling some part of his body pressed against hers.

She had the sudden, irrational need to feel the steel strength of his arms around her, holding her all together lest she fall apart. But she didn’t move to satisfy the urge. She didn’t know how to make the first move. Instead, she answered his question.

Opal shrugged. “I will never renounce Marvel or Captain America.”

He chuckled. “No?”

“But I _will_ renounce Chris Evans for you,” she offered.

“Oh?”

She nodded. “Yep.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re real.”

“So is he.”

“He doesn’t love me,” she said softly.

A wide smile pulled his lips up and, if she wasn’t mistaken, the faintest tinge of a blush bloomed on his cheeks.

“When we were first talking, I was really excited by week three that whatever this was seemed real. It made me incredibly happy,” he said.

She laughed a little. “You were just so dorky and sweet, how could I not want to stick around and get to know you? Did you ever want to tell me who you really were?”

“All the time,” he said. “But I was afraid you would run away. The online world makes it too easy to ghost someone and I just couldn’t take the chance. Do you really think we would have nearly as deep a connection if you had known?”

She chewed her bacon silently for a few moments, trying to think of the right thing to say. Would she have connected with him so deeply? Or would she have been self conscious, like she was right at this moment. “I don’t know. I think I would have been confused or, I don’t know, think I was being catfished.”

“I would have understood,” he said.

Opal nibbled her lip thoughtfully. “I don’t exactly live under a rock. Maybe my psyche was just trying to protect me for some reason. I’ve watched enough Tudors and seen enough of your hairy chest that I should have connected it with the photos you sent me.”

Henry laughed, and put his hand on his chest. “Yeah, this rug came in and I was suddenly a man. All the ladies love it.”

“I better be the only one running my fingers in it from now on,” she said before she could stop herself. When it was out, she quickly averted her gaze and swallowed hard. God, she was so useless when it came to flirting.

He took a deep breath, not seeming to take an issue with her blurted comment. In fact, he seemed unduly pleased. “That’s the plan. It belongs to you, and only you.”

Except when he had to do another love scene in a movie or a television show. She wasn’t an idiot. She knew it was simulated, but the thought hit like a ton of bricks. How could she ever compare to all the beautiful people he spent his time around--all the beautiful people who were probably not as timid as her when it came to intimacy?

“All of me,” he said and paused to clear his throat, as though it were somehow difficult to speak “belongs to you.”

“Just like that? You’re too easy, really. “

He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Cheap and easy have long been my motto, when it comes to a lot of things.”

She giggled and shook her head, allowing their conversation to lull into silence. Though it was companionable, the sense that she needed to be held pervaded. She tried to ignore it. He’d totally think she was a freaking loser when she asked to hug him. God, people must ask him a million times a day for a hug.

“Just say it, Opal,” he murmured. “There’s something you want to say. I can see it on your face. Say it.”

The blush was back on her cheeks. “I’m just… sorry…”

“Don’t apologize for anything.”

“Okay,” she said. “I just… I have this weird need for you to hug me.”

His eyes sparkled as a giant grin spread his lips. “You’re embarrassed about _that_? That’s not weird at all.”

“What do you have planned today?” she asked, quickly changing the subject. “I know you have a lot of ideas…” she chewed her lip. “I, uh… want this weekend to be special, ‘cause who knows how long until we see each other again.”

He looked at her seriously. Realization dawned on him then, if the look on his face was anything to go by. They’d skirted around the subject for a while online, and since she had arrived this morning. “I will go as fast as you want, or as slow as you want,” he said quietly, reassuringly. He met her gaze. “You will, however, share the bed with me and you will cuddle. Is that understood?”

Opal looked at him and nodded, trying to ignore another one of those electric frissons shooting up and down her spine and coiling around her center. “Yes, I understand.”

He smiled at the look on her face. “I’m glad you feel that way. I like to be in charge.”

“I noticed.” She continued, “I’m sure this is some psychological issue that has to do with the fact that you are the fourth child, and therefore unable to assert your place or dominance within the pack of your family.”

Henry burst out laughing. “Something like that. I really just like it when a girl is all hot and bothered by my constant licking and kissing and touching, and then it’s me who chooses when to give it to her.” He winked. “You give me the sign you are ready to go, and I promise you, it’s on.”

“Honestly, I don’t want to worry about it. I rather think knowing that the other person is willing to lead and guide me takes some of my anxiety away,” she admitted.

“Yes, but I want to make it clear that you need to tell me no if you’re not ready,” he said. “I will wait. However long you want me to, I’ll wait.”

Opal blushed, straight down to the bottom of her feet. She wanted to believe he would wait forever if she asked it of him, but she was a realist and understood that wouldn’t happen. He had needs, and if she couldn’t meet him halfway at some reasonable point, then he’d be gone. She’d have to pluck up the courage somewhere to take her clothes off in front of a guy, but she hoped that his penchant for dominance in the bedroom would help spur her along. It was a lot easier to comply with a request than it was to get over her hang ups on her own.

“Hank…” she said quietly. “What… what if you realize you don’t want someone so… uninitiated?”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “Not going to happen.”

“If you say so,” she replied.

“I do say so,” he said and paused for a moment, only to be interrupted from any further conversation by his cell phone ringing. He groaned when he looked at the caller ID. “My turn to apologize. I forgot to switch it off.”

Opal shrugged, grateful for the reprieve. “You can take it. I don’t mind.”

He frowned. “Thanks, it’s my business manager. Just give me a few.”

She watched him get up, remarking again on the fact that he was just so large that he made her feel small, and that was no “small feat.” He stepped out of the dining area and into the living area, his voice now slightly muffled, but she heard something about a new movie script coming through.

Opal looked back at her food and considered finishing her pancakes, but she couldn’t make herself take another bite. Instead, she got up from the table and went into the bedroom where the bellhop had left her luggage earlier. Amber would be pissed if all the photos from the weekend were of wrinkled costumes she had taken the time to sew for Opal.

Thinking of Amber, Opal grabbed her phone and started to text her friend that she got in and everything was good, so far. Amber called almost immediately after the first text.

“So what’s he like?” Amber said by way of hello. She didn’t sound excited to ask and more like a hardened detective trying to nail a murderer.

“Not what I expected.”

Not in the least.

Amber released a breath. “Well, that happens with the internet, right? Were those pictures fakes? Hot body, ugly face?”

“Not exactly,” Opal replied, unzipping the first suitcase.

“Oh, so he’s handsome.” Amber was crestfallen.

Opal let out an incredulous laugh. “Uh… yeah, you could say that.”

“Send me a picture, I have to see.”

“I will, later,” Opal said. “I have to hang up my costumes. He’s on the phone right now.”

“You mean you’ve not met for like a year and he’d rather be on his phone than with you?” Amber said. “I don’t know, Opie. Doesn’t sound like a good omen.”

Opal rolled her eyes. “Amber, I told him to take the call. He wasn’t going to.”

“Still, though, do you think if any man were truly into you, he’d want to leave you after a year of getting to know one another?” Amber asked. “If I were him, I would be all over you.”

Opal did not need this new earworm. Not at all. Amber could be cruel when she wanted to be; Opal sighed and rested her forehead on the wardrobe door. When had Amber started acting like this, anyway? Opal sure as hell knew she wouldn’t have maintained a friendship with her if she’d been like this in the beginning, but she supposed in the beginning, when they first met in high school, Amber was still Ambrose, and everything was different then.

“He’s giving me space because he knows I’m nervous,” Opal replied. “He’s a gentleman.”

“Yeah, I know, the labrador. Maybe _he’s_ a virgin, too.”

Opal scoffed so loudly it echoed in the room. “He’s not. Trust me. I have to go hang these things up. I will send a photo later.”

She didn’t wait for Amber to hang up; she hit “end” on the line and tossed her phone across the room where it landed on the bed. Henry stepped inside the room then with a quizzical look on his face.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” Opal replied.

Henry pointed at the phone resting on the bed. “You threw a very expensive piece of technology across the room. We don’t treat technology like that in this house.”

His jest made her giggle, and her anger with Amber subsided. “You’re such a dork. My phone is fine.”

“Mmhmm,” he said, advancing on her and grabbing her hand. He twirled her around in such a way she lost her balance and fell into his chest, her nose pressed in between both of his substantial cloth-covered pecs. He smelled amazing.

She tilted her head back to look up at him and his arms encircled her like a vice. A very pleasurable vice. At once she felt small and also whole, like a piece of the jigsaw called her life had finally slipped into place. These arms could protect her, and support her, and love her, and carry around their children, and…

And yet, they could still ruin her. Even as she felt content there, finally in his arms, with her puzzle complete, she couldn’t get rid of the nagging voice in her head that sounded once again like Amber.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all!

**Chapter 4**

Henry sat on the bed, happily watching Opal as she meticulously pulled out garment after garment and hung them up in the closet. She hummed softly as she worked, every so often stopping to squint at the yards of fabric on this skirt or that, pulling at loose threads and muttering something about needing to steam press one of them. There was something so domestic about this, even though they were in a hotel room in an unfamiliar place and still–despite getting to know each other online—trying to figure each other out.

It amazed him how much being in person changed everything; the reality had settled in that they may have talked a lot about anything and everything, but that was far different than being in person and having the physical connection with someone. They both still had a lot to learn about each other and he planned on spending every possible minute with her doing just that. There was no doubt in his mind that this was right; the feeling of peace as he watched her move around the room was like nothing he’d ever experienced with another woman.

Opal finished with her last piece—a voluminous peachy pink ball gown skirt–and moved back to the foot of the bed to sit down beside him. She was close, but not touching him; he wondered at that and all the times he noticed the almost imperceptible flinch when he reached out to touch her. Of course, he understood she didn’t have the experience with the opposite sex he did, but the reaction made him wonder if she was scared of his touch for some other reason. 

Was she? Scared of him? He couldn’t imagine scaring someone, but he supposed he came on strong at times. And in this situation, he was a believer of instituting a bit of aversion therapy in that he tried to insinuate himself in her space. He wasn’t going to let her run away; she herself had admitted to running on more than one occasion with others.

To that end, he did not let her sit too far away for long. He gathered her in his arms and pressed his lips to her forehead, right at her hairline, smelling the coconut shampoo in her hair. She was tense for a moment, then her body relaxed, moulding against him. He wanted to kiss her—really kiss her—but considering the reaction, he knew he had to wait.

“This is going to be an excellent weekend,” he murmured. Reassurance… for her and, honestly, for him.

She chuckled. “Says the guy who only has two costumes and like twenty-five geeky shirts. We’re not going to be able to go out much incognito.”

“You’d be surprised how a guy can blend in with the crowd,” he said. “Even me.”

Opal eyed him in suspicion. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“You know how busy these weekends are,” he said. “People don’t really stop to look unless you’re flashy and in an impressive cosplay. And I will have you know I walked around San Diego Comic Con with a Guy mask and a geek shirt and no one cared. Literally, not even Will when I took a photo with him.”

“Will?”

“Smith,” Henry said. “Deadshot? Suicide Squad?”

“I know who Will Smith is!” she scoffed and playfully smacked his arm. “By the way, I _am_ happy that you agreed to do the steampunk one with me. I know Amber thought I was crazy when I had her make you the cloak.”

“I’m glad she did it. She really made all these costumes?” Henry asked.

Opal nodded and smiled. “She taught herself to sew when she was pre-transition. Her mom and dad wouldn’t buy her girl clothes, so she saved up money for an old sewing machine from the thrift shop and started making her own.”

Though he wasn’t Amber’s greatest fan—there were some things Opal had related to him he didn’t particularly agree with—he understood their relationship was long and deep and he could no sooner understand the bond they shared as friends of twenty years than Amber could understand the bond he and Opal shared.

“Oh.” He smiled. “Well, I’m glad she did all the sewing. I did make my Phantom mask and it’s pretty badass. It was like putting a computer together, all intricate moving parts with gears and such. I was so worried about it in my luggage, I carried it on the plane.”

“Can I see it?”

“Eventually. I want you to be surprised.”

“And did you remember the signet ring?”

He wiggled his pinky by way of showing off where he would wear the aforementioned ring. “Yes, it’s in my bag.”

Opal laughed. “Who the heck has a signet ring, anyway? It’s so impossibly crusty British upper class.”

“You said it was the sexiest thing on the Phantom!”

“Sure, on the _Phantom_ ,” Opal teased. “You, my good sir, don’t need a ring to be sexy.”

She reached out for him, as though to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down to her, but she awkwardly stopped herself mid-movement, hesitating, then resting her hands in her lap instead.

He reached out and took her hands into his, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull her closer yet. She craned her neck to look up at him. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

“Stop apologizing,” he instructed. “You shouldn’t have to apologize for anything you want. I refuse to apologize for anything _I_ want.”

Opal huffed. “I know. I’m just awkward.”

“You know you can touch me.” He smiled. “I will never tell you to not touch my hand or my arm or my neck or my— ”

“I get it,” she said, an edge of attitude in her tone. “Like I said, I’m awkward and I always feel like I should ask permission.”

He frowned. “Why?”

Opal looked up again, meeting his eyes for a long time without speaking. She wanted to say something, to divulge some important piece of information. He could see it on her face, but she shook it away and went another direction. “I just keep worrying that if I touch you, you’re going to be nothing more than an apparition.”

“You’re going to have to kill me to get rid of me at this point,” he admitted. “But seriously, Opal, Princess, you have my tacit permission to touch me wherever and whenever you want. If I don’t want to be touched, you’ll know. Got it?”

“Got it,” she said shakily.

She licked her lips and it took everything in his power to not devour her mouth in that moment. Maybe she wanted him to, with that reaction, but he wasn’t sure it was the right time. In fact, if he went that route, they weren’t going to be leaving the bedroom for some time, and he had already made appointments for them elsewhere.

Henry let go of her. “Good. Come on! We have a long day of pampering to get to at the spa.”

“Henry, you didn’t have to do that,” she said. “I would be perfectly happy just hanging out up here.”

“Nonsense, I wanted to. You’ll find that acts of service and gifts are one part of my love language.” He leaned in close to her ear, brushing his lips across her cheek, then the shell of her ear, before whispering, “As is physical touch.”

He delighted at the shiver that vibrated her body against his. As he moved away, he noted how her pupils had dilated in obvious lust. Never to be one to pass up the opportunity, he moved to the other and kissed that ear before purring again, “And trust me, Opal. I plan on touching you a lot.”

Opal shivered more violently, and only stopped when a moan escaped her plump lips. “Curse you and your sex on legs.”

Henry laughed and stood up, holding his hand out to her. “Come on, Princess. We’re going to be late.”

“Heh,” she murmured, now breathless. “I suppose I never considered how disarming real-life dirty talk was going to be.”

“Princess, you’re in for a big surprise if you think that’s the extent of what you’ll hear out of my mouth.”

Opal rolled her eyes at him, straightening her shirt and smoothing out her hair, though it looked perfectly fine. It wasn’t like he’d wrecked her like he truly wanted. Because he was a gentleman. Yes. A _gentleman_.

A gentleman who needed a cold shower at some point.

God help him during the couples massage he’d booked.

###

The spa itself was like any other spa Henry had ever been to—sedate taupe walls with muted lighting and the softest flute music floating through the air. Nothing special. However, Opal breathed in deeply as they entered, and he turned to see her eyes flutter closed for a brief second. Her lips quirked up in a beatific smile.

“Already enjoying it?” he asked.

She shrugged. “It just seems relaxing. I’ve never been to a fancy spa before.”

“Really?”

“Yep,” she said, glancing around the room again. “Apparently this is going to be a weekend of firsts.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but an overeager woman came out from behind the front desk.

“Oh, Mr. Cavill,” interrupted the woman, already effusive in her manufactured charm. “Welcome! We’ve been expecting you. We do hope your trip to Atlanta was uneventful.”

He inclined his head in recognition. “It was fine, but I’ve already been here for work. My girlfriend is the one who just arrived this morning.”

At the mention of the word “girlfriend,” the brunette clerk turned her wide, starstruck eyes to the woman beside him. Opal’s grip on his hand loosened, as if she meant to pull away from him, but he squeezed tighter to reassure her. Clearly, the interaction at check in hadn’t helped issues any. What’s more, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed the slight change in the clerk’s demeanor when she looked at their clasped hands and then at Opal. Opal wasn’t imagining things.

But this, also, wasn’t something new to him. He could be with any woman and other heterosexual women always did the doubletake, sizing up their competition. It was natural and unfortunately overrepresented in the land of celebrity when the public saw public figures as _their_ commodity, and not as a real person.

A real person who could care less about a brunette flipping her hair flirtatiously over a shoulder. He wasn’t going to mess around with a hamburger when he already had a steak, just like Paul Newman once said.

Opal wasn’t used to it, however, and the previously relaxed grin on her lips flattened into a hard line. The small muscles in her hand had tensed at the other woman’s worsening reaction. There was a split second where he thought Opal might bolt, so he quickly switched tactics, wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to his side. He kissed the top of her head, again feeling her tense.

When he looked again for the clerk, he found her back behind the desk, pulling something up on her computer. Business as usual, then. “Right, Mr. Cavill, we have you both down for the couple’s package?

“That’s right,” he said, pressing his hand lightly to the small part of Opal’s back to guide her forward.

“Okay, great.” The clerk’s fake smile was back on her face. “They will call for you momentarily.”

He nodded in understanding and glanced down at Opal again. She turned her face up to look at him, her bright eyes blinking at him. “Does that include massages?”

“That’s generally like the number one thing to do at a spa,” he explained.

“There’s not going to be, uh—” she paused and swallowed hard around a lump in her throat. “What if my massage therapist is male?”

Henry snorted a laugh and lifted his hands up in front of her, flexing his fingers. “Princess, these are the only male hands that are going to be touching you this weekend.”

“What if there’s a woma—”

“Will you stop worrying?” he chided good-naturedly. “I requested one female and one male. They do this on purpose just for this reason. Though, there are those that don’t care.”

“I just…”

He frowned. “What is it?”

“I’m not naturally good with people touching me,” she admitted, though it was soft and breathy, as though said without enough air in her lungs.

He desperately wanted to push further into that discussion, but their attendants came out to guide them to the changing rooms. Opal smiled shyly, blushed, but instead of retreating from him, she curled herself against his side as though he were her protector from the Big Bad Massage Therapists.

And he _really_ liked that. It played to that caveman hindbrain of his; he could play the protector. No, scratch that he _wanted_ to be Protector, with a capital P.

Whoever or whatever created this touch shyness in her would need to be dealt with, too. However, it did lend important context to her unluckiness in love. Most guys would take her reactions as turn offs or too much work and run, but he didn’t see it like that. Maybe it was because they’d had more time to develop such a strong emotional connection online. He wanted to make it work. He wanted to make it all better. So, he planned to put in the effort it required to understand.

“I’ll see you in a few, darling,” he murmured.

“Okay,” she said, the shakiness of nerves evident in her tone. He watched her walk, forgetting just a moment of his concern and instead zeroed in on the way her hips moved in the tight denim that encased them. A thought quickly floated across his mind that he must find the underlying cause of Opal’s touch shyness as soon as was humanly possible. He wasn’t sure how long he could abstain from truly touching her the way he wanted to—or feeling guilty each time she recoiled.

The female therapist must have said something funny because Opal tossed her head back and laughed, defusing her nerves and snapping his attention to the situation. Opal and the therapist turned for one last glance back at him. It relaxed him to see the smile return to Opal’s lips.

When they were finally behind a closed door, Henry followed the slight male massage therapist back into the changing room. When he initially made the appointment, he specifically requested a male and female therapist team; he did it at first because he didn’t want Opal to get the wrong impression about another woman’s hands on him. And though it was unlikely she would have had a male therapist anyway, as there were so few in the profession, he certainly didn’t want to see another man’s hands rubbing all over her. Now he was glad he thought ahead.

He stripped down and replaced his clothes with the robe and slippers provided by the spa. As with all standard sized robes he’d ever worn, the sleeves were tight against his biceps and the tie barely closed the robe, but it did the job. When he entered the warm, lowly lit treatment room, he sat in one of the chairs and waited for Opal. He smiled when she walked in, noting how tightly she clutched the edges of the soft robe between her breasts.

“Ready for this?” he asked.

Her eyes snapped to his, and she gave him a manic little chuckle. “Did you know you have to be _completely_ naked?”

Henry grinned. “I did.”

“They let me keep my undies on, but still,” she said.

Henry stood up and went over to her. “Opal, maybe I should have said this before… if you don’t want to do the massage, you can choose anything else from their services. This is supposed to be a fun, relaxing experience. If it’s not—”

She quickly pressed her fingers to his lips, stopping him mid-sentence. “Stop, I’m fine. Really. If I can’t take my clothes off for this, how am I going to in 24… 48… whatever hours?”

“Well, you’d be more comfortable with me after more time together, for one,” he said after taking her hand away from his lips.

She sighed. “I just don’t have the body to be showing my curves off to everyone, you know?”

“I think your curves are lovely. There are a few I want to become better acquainted with,” he said.

The visible part of her chest flushed bright red as he slid his fingers down the open edge of her robe. He teased her by pulling it away from her body slightly, testing how far he could take this without her fainting. Her breathing had already become shallow, her eyes had closed, and even though he wasn’t touching her body, he felt the soft rhythmic whisper of fabric against his fingers as her heart pounded against it.

“As a matter of fact,” he started, “I plan on getting to know these curves better this evening. If you’ll let me, of course.”

Her long eyelashes fluttered open to reveal sky blue eyes that glittered in the low light. There was a mixture of lust and fear there, wrestling with each other. She gave him a slight nod and bit her lower lip, no doubt as a nervous reaction, but he had no control over the pleasure signal it created in his own body. Henry smiled and stepped back, granting her a brief reprieve as he moved strategically behind the massage table.

Her assessing gaze dropped down the length of his robed body, her lips slightly parted, still breathing shallowly. He took the opportunity, holding her gaze with his, to let his robe drop. She might have issues with her body, but he had no problem showing off all that God gave him, as well as all the parts he had worked very long hours in the gym to develop over the years.

Her squeak and deeper blush were worth it, but to her credit, she didn’t turn away. He turned so she could get a better eyeful of his arse as he slid under the warm sheets on the table. He turned his head to find her frozen in place.

He nodded at the tie on her robe… the one her fingers clutched like a lifeline. “Go ahead, Princess,” he purred. “Your turn.”

“Not a chance, Cavill. Turn your head,” she said.

He let out an exasperated sigh and did as she asked. He wanted so badly to look at her, to drink in her curves, but he had to be true to his word and follow her lead. It was the only way she was going to trust him—that much was clear. So, he rested his head on his folded arms with eyes closed and listened to her shimmy under her own blanket.

When she finished, he opened his eyes. “You doing okay?”

She nodded. “I am. I know I don’t seem like it, but I really am thrilled to be here with you. It’s a lot to take in all at once. You, all the months of talking and not working out who you were, and just, I don’t know. Like I said before, I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and you won’t be real, and you’ll just evaporate like a dream.”

He reached his hand out to take hers. He kissed the back of it. “I’m very much here, and I’m very much into being with you. I’m glad you didn’t leave this morning when you found out who I was.”

She laughed. “I don’t think my legs would have worked well enough to leave, anyway. But, still, I’m not that cruel. I’m not just going to get up and leave. I may be hella nervous, but I’m made of stronger stuff than that.”

“I know you are,” he said finally, squeezing her hand.

Opal shrugged and grinned mischievously. “Besides, where would I get a hotel room at this point in the game? You’re pretty much stuck with me, roomie.”

Henry laughed. “There’s no other person I’d rather be stuck with.”

“You say that now…” she teased.

“Unless there are hidden tentacles under that blanket, you’re not going anywhere,” he said. “And even then, I’d think twice.”

Opal giggled for a long time at that, finally settling down, but not before saying to him, “No one would believe me if I told them I was waiting for a couples massage with you and we were talking about tentacle porn.”

He meant to respond to that, but one of the therapists knocked on the door to begin their massages, effectively ending their conversation. At least they had conversation to fall back on—good conversation, fun conversation. That had always been their strength as they got to know each other online.

If there was communication, then anything was possible.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mentions of assault.
> 
> Thank you for reading, love you all!

**Chapter 5**

Opal turned to the side as she looked at herself in the full length mirror on the back of the closet door. She smoothed the front of her dress over her rounded belly and picked at the slight ruching that was meant to help hide her imperfections along with the black color of the dress, but it did neither. There’d be no hiding anything. This was about as bodycon as one could get, and indeed she bought it a long time ago because she thought she looked hot in the form fitting silk. As soon as she got it home, though, and really looked at herself wearing it in the harsh light of day, she put it away, in the back of her closet with the other beautiful clothes she’d bought but never found the courage to wear. 

That was changing. Now. Today. Okay, not today. But as soon as she walked back into her house. She planned to go straight to her closet and pull them all out and wear each of them as soon as she had the right opportunity or occasion. Considering that most of them were on the fancier side of things, meant for dates, she figured she’d have more chances to wear them now, anyway.

Even though she and Henry would literally be halfway across the globe from each other after this weekend. She couldn’t dwell on that fact, though. If she did, then the sadness set in. She refused to let that particular emotion claw its way back. They’d make it work if it was going to work. It wasn’t like she couldn’t just take her computer places and work there.

If she could convince her boss to allow frequent trips.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t also spend part of his time in Los Angeles. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Henry walked by behind her, drawing her attention away from those troubling thoughts. He fumbled with the cufflink on his left shirt cuff. She was going to make a quip about it, but the words died on her lips when she noticed he looked at her like a fat kid looked at cake. He licked his lips, smiled, and walked into the bathroom.

She couldn’t help but blush. She never would’ve believed he was truly stealing glances at her, but that notion had been squashed earlier at the spa. In fact, now she was hyper aware of his long, molten stares. 

And it was all because of the wonderful esthetician who completed her facial after their massage. What had started out as a traumatic experience ended up making her feel the most confident she’d ever felt in her own skin, thanks in part to Jessa the esthetician’s enlightening conversation. 

_“He’s looking at you like you are the purest water and he’s just had some hot sauce.”_

_Opal giggled, and blushed, looking at the woman. “I just keep thinking he’s going to be like, ‘Ugh, not my type’ and leave, Jessa.”_

_“Girl, please. You got one of those peach bottoms that men love to get a handful of. You already got him eating out of your hand, he’s not stopped glancing over here this whole time,” Jessa said, putting her hand on her hip. “And if he does do that, I got a handful of fine brothers who would eat that peach bottom up. So you just let Jessa know and I’ll hook you up.”_

_The comment made Opal laugh loudly, disturbing the serenity of the spa and resulted in a few perturbed glares from other clients. Henry had glanced up, one eyebrow raised in interest. She smiled at him sweetly and he went back to his shave. Opal smiled. “Thank you, Jessa. I’ll keep you updated.”_

Opal had made sure to slip Jessa an extra tip, even though she was sure Henry had tipped everyone well. Stingy wasn’t really a word she would use to describe this man, not materially or emotionally. 

Or physically.

Definitely not physically. He liked touching. Being affectionate.

She did not; or, more aptly, she was not used to it in the romantic sense. But she wasn’t even that affectionate with her family. There were a few hugs here and there as a child, but they weren’t overly huggy. And then there was the other thing he didn’t know about, because she never talked about it, that prevented her from initially enjoying his touches.

It was getting easier, though, the more he touched her. She found, with some relief, that she actually quite liked being close to him in that way. Perhaps there was hope for her, after all.

Opal moved away from the mirror and followed his trail to the bathroom. She rested a hip on the door jamb and watched him finish his grooming. He saw her in the mirror and smiled. 

“Like what you see?” he asked, that insidious brow raised.

“Nah,” she said with a grin. “I was just thinking about how you use twice the product I do.”

Henry rubbed his hands on a hand towel to remove the remnants of whatever moisturizer he’d used on his freshly shaved jaw. “That’s because it takes a lot to make me look this good. You’re already bloody gorgeous, so you don’t need it.”

Her cheeks heated and she shifted her weight awkwardly on her bare feet. Why were compliments so difficult to take? 

“And as an answer to your question, I do like what I see,” she replied. “I appreciate your efforts. But I also love getting to just observe each other. That’s what we were missing over the last year.”

Henry stopped and smiled at her. “I watched you getting ready, and that’s why I’m so behind. I couldn’t stop watching you. You are enchanting,” he whispered. 

The air caught in her lungs upon hearing the deep gravelliness of his sentiment. He closed the distance between them. The hunger, the lust, the pain, the joy, the need, all passed across his face. He leaned down and brushed his lips across her temple. “We’re going to make a hell of a couple tonight, Princess.”

“Yes, we are,” she replied breathlessly. 

“Let me finish getting ready. You are distracting.” 

Opal giggled. “Pot, kettle.” 

She moved away from the door and went back to the bed to struggle into the sky high heels she had thought would be great to wear, but now she regretted the decision to pack them. Her feet were going to ache by the end of the night. But--the minx inside her reminded--that could possibly lead to another massage. This time, just with Henry. 

As she finished up the last buckle on the strappy things and stretched her legs out to check how they looked, she noticed Henry watching from across the room with a glazed look in his eyes. She laughed at him, because it was the exact same look she’d had as he secured the waistcoat around his trim torso. “This… me putting on shoes shut you down?”

Henry reanimated with a shrug. “I have a thing for really high strappy, almost slutty, heels. Nothing like…” He stopped and blushed slightly. “Uh, never mind.”

Opal stood up and went over to him, just barely shorter than him now, and grinned. “I will have to remember that for later,” she replied. 

“Oh, god, please do. Bonus points for silk stockings and the whole belt contraption,” he murmured.

She giggled. “You know, men and women are so different. You want the littlest piece of clothing on me, but I’d rather see you in a three piece suit.”

“I can fuck in a three piece suit just as well as I can without,” he teased.

His comment, and the harsh word, caught her off guard. Taking the opportunity, he went over to grab his cell phone. He beckoned her with a crooked finger. “Come here.” 

She didn’t ask for clarification or even think about it; her feet in their dangerous footwear moved of their volition. When she reached him, he wrapped his arm around her and kissed her head, all while snapping a quick picture. He looked at it, smiled, and turned it around for her to view.

Her cheeks were high with color. Her skin glowed; her eyes sparkled. Her smile showed almost every one of her teeth. Everything about it made her seem so vital, so alive, so… beautiful. She had never seen herself so happy. Simply being near him made her want to beam from ear to ear. 

He smiled softly. “Now you see what I see when I look at you.”

“I don’t always look like this,” she protested.

“You do,” he replied. “Let me send this to you so you can send it to Amber.”

Opal shifted uncomfortably. She’d completely forgotten about sending Amber a picture. What kind of friend was she, anyway? 

“We can’t bring our phones tonight,” he explained. “Something about making sure nothing unflattering gets out.” 

Opal looked up at him and nodded. “Okay. Let me just send Amber a text telling her I’m going out for the night.” 

She saved the picture to her phone and opened up the text stream with her friend. She took the picture, sent it, and wrote, “I don’t think I ever expected my Hank to be this real. Going out for the night. Talk to you in the morning.”

She plugged her phone in, stood up, and took Henry’s hand. “Okay. Let’s go.” 

* * *

Opal stood in the atrium of the Georgia Aquarium and sighed. She was enchanted. She’d been here a ton of times before at previous cons, but never on a night specifically designed to be an intimate cocktail party with all of the con’s celebrity guests. 

What actually was her life right now? 

Henry talked to Dany and Dwayne, and she couldn’t get over the fact that she was standing next to The Rock. How many times had she sat next to her brothers while they watched this giant man wrestle? If someone had told her this was going to be her life when she left Los Angeles the night before, she’d have told them they were lying. It was all a little surreal.

Dany smiled at her, obviously picking up on the fact that she had zoned out and had literal stars in her eyes. “So, Opal, what do you do?” 

Opal hummed and blinked at her. “Yeah, sorry. I’m a designer and programmer for Blizzard. I have been there, oh gosh, almost ten years now. Best job I have ever had.”

“And you live with?” Dany inquired. 

Opal understood Dany’s reticence to accept her into the group. Dany didn’t want anything to harm the business, and even though she seemed tough, she clearly cared deeply for both men as friends. Still, though, Opal didn’t think she gave off a crazy fan vibe.

“My best friend, from like middle school,” Opal said, moving to stand closer to Dany. She leaned in to speak quietly. “I know you’re worried about me using him, I get that, trust me. If I was in your position I would, too. But honestly, Dany, I didn’t even know he was him… until this morning when I arrived. I just thought he was a dorky British guy named Hank. That was it. In the months leading up to this I just got to know his heart and who he is, not Henry Cavill, God’s gift to women. I knew SuperHank, the cleric who runs around healing people, because he is _that_ guy. I got to know the Hank who was shy and loved to cook and gets excited about Warhammer and new fantasy novels. Who tells me constantly that I am worthy and beautiful.” 

Dany beamed at her. “That’s just what I wanted to hear.” 

“And frankly, you scare me a little bit, so I won’t do anything untoward,” Opal said.

Dany laughed and flexed a bicep. “Don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t.”

“But seriously, Opal,” she said and grabbed Opal’s hand. “He needs someone he can love with his whole being, and I’ve never seen him happier than when he has spoken to me about you.” She squeezed her hand. “It’s not going to be easy, but I promise to make sure you’re okay and safe, and that you can be with him.”

Opal grinned. “He is pretty special.” She looked beside her, expecting to find him there. “And... gone, apparently.”

Lauren smiled at her. “He and Dwayne went to get some drinks.” 

Opal felt her stomach clench. She tried to smile, but before she could muster one, Henry was back by her side. He handed her a flute of champagne. “Here, Princess.” 

Opal took the glass from him and didn’t say a word. Her jaw clenched and it took everything in her to stop her hand from shaking. 

Henry frowned. “Is that okay? Do you want something else?”

“Huh? Oh, no, it’s fine,” she replied and tried to smile again. Even though she couldn’t see it, she knew it came off as more of a grimace because of the expression Henry returned. He knew something was wrong, but the words to explain it to him failed to form on her tongue.

Not that she really had the chance to say anything, anyway. A loud, booming voice rang out across the atrium, “LITTLE BRUDDA!!!”

Opal spun around and watched in abject horror as two grown men raced towards each other and chest bumped each other like drunken frat boys.

Dwayne shook his head. “Seriously, you two? We’re in public.” 

Henry came back and smiled. “Jason, my man, this… is Opal.” 

Jason looked at her, his eyebrow raised. “Well, hello there, beautiful. I’m Jason…” He took her free hand and kissed the back of it. “If he gives you any trouble, let me know.”

Opal blushed. “Thank you. I will.”

Dazzled once more by the Man Also Known As Khal Drogo, Henry startled her with a hand on the small of her back. She looked up at him, still holding the flute from which she had not yet had a drop of champagne.

Henry leaned down into her ear. “Do you want me to get something else for you?”

She shook her head. “No, I just, uh… I’m going to get my own drink.” 

She excused herself and headed over to the bar, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t running away from him and running away from the conversation she should have already had with him, even before they both decided to meet here in Atlanta. 

She wasn’t in line long when she felt his presence behind her. 

“Are you okay?” he asked again, concern written all over his face.

“I am, honestly. I just… well… it’s stupid. I don’t drink anything that I don’t see poured myself, and I very rarely drink alcohol in public. I should have told you. It’s just my hang up and, gah... I’m sorry I freaked out a little bit.”

Henry’s eyebrows knit together. He nodded, but he clearly wanted more. 

“Let me get my drink and we’ll take a walk and talk, okay?” she asked, hoping to smooth things over.

He nodded and stood quietly with her. Even though he was clearly confused and maybe a little angry, his presence was still one that calmed her and she found herself resting against his sturdy bulk as they waited. Opal ordered her cranberry juice in a martini glass. To anyone other than herself and Henry, it looked like a Cosmo. It was her fallback when she wanted to hang out with the cool kids but didn’t want to do what the cool kids were doing. Because that one time she did what the cool kids were doing? She lived to regret it.

She took his hand and started to walk through the first exhibit. Opal paused at a tube enclosure in the middle of the room full of jellies. A black light shone down into the water, illuminating the sea creatures as they performed a graceful, haunting dance around their tank. She stood quietly, Henry standing next to her, silent, thinking. 

Finally, she cleared her throat from the heavy emotion making it difficult to breathe. “I was drugged.”

Henry’s fingers curled into her back. Though he tried to mask the sharp intake of air, his gasp was still audible. “Opal, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because,” she said, just barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t just that. Amber and I were freshmen in college and I wanted to fit in. We went to a frat party. A guy we had art history with invited us.”

His anger was palpable; it wasn’t anger directed at her, though. Somehow, she knew that, as she stared at the gelatinous orbs bobbing through the water. She took a sip of the cranberry juice before moving on.

“I woke up the next morning, head fuzzy, in a room I had never seen before, and my panties around my ankles.” She braved a look up at Henry, to gauge his reaction. The sharp line of his jaw was set, his rage evident.

For some reason, it was cathartic to share this secret with another human. Amber knew, of course. Amber had nursed her back from the brink after they got home from the hospital.

“It’s the reason I pull away sometimes when you touch me, and the reason I am so unsure of myself. I’m sorry I never told you before, but you have a right to know.”

Henry didn’t speak; he looked at a point beyond her, staring in stony silence for the longest time. He finally tore his focus away from that point and gazed down at her. His face spoke volumes, even before his words did. He rested his chin on her head and wrapped her in his arms. “You know I would never, ever do that.”

“Oh, no, I do! I just… I want so badly for you to touch me, to be yours, I just need… time,” she said. “I don’t even know if I’m actually a virgin or not. I don’t know what they did to me. The next morning, Amber took me to the ER and a rape kit was done, but it was inconclusive. I’m sorry if this changes the way you feel about being with me.”

Henry pulled away from her and put his drink on the floor. He took her face gently in his hands. “I never, ever would feel any different about you. I just… I understand now.” He kissed her forehead, but didn’t move his lips from the spot they’d touched. His next words were muffled, but the meaning behind them was everything. “My promise to you is that I will not hurt you, and it’s all going to be at your pace.”

She smiled and pushed his hands away from her face. With her free hand, she reached up and let her hand rest on the nape of his neck. “Well, then, we can do this, cause I’m very ready for it.” 

With little strength, she pulled him down to her and kissed him. It wasn’t passionate or chaste; it was somewhere in the middle. A reassurance. A promise. Her promise to be as open with him as possible. His cue that she was okay with him pushing her boundaries. And she loved him for it.


End file.
